


If You Ever Wanna Be In Love (I'll Come Around)

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Boys Kissing, Crushes, M/M, Riding, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Top Harry, Topping from the Bottom, a partial one anyway, me thinking I'm amusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>There’s a boy sitting on a bench near Louis’ picnic table. He’s beautiful in a way that Louis had never really thought existed. The wind breezes through his curly hair, constantly blowing it in his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he brushes it back absentmindedly and continues reading the book in his hands. His lush, pink lips move occasionally, either to the words he’s reading or mouthing along to the lyrics he’s hearing through his earphones.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Louis doesn’t hesitate when he sees the boy. He pulls out his sketchpad right away and gets to work. If this is the last time that he sees the boy, he wants a reminder that he existed. For one shining moment, he was a part of Louis’ world, and Louis wants the proof. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Ever Wanna Be In Love (I'll Come Around)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [feelslikelashton](http://feelslikelashton.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr.  
> So many thanks to my betas [catbixby2060](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bixcattv/pseuds/catbixby2060) [dramaturgicallycorrect](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaturgicallycorrect/pseuds/dramaturgicallycorrect)  
> and combo beta/brit-picker [louissass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/louissass/pseuds/louissass)  
> who always make my stories better.
> 
> Title is from the song "If You Ever Want To Be In Love" by James Bay.

 

Louis spends most of his free time at the park near his dorm.

He goes to get away from his homophobic roommate, the weight of his coursework, the constant thrum of desperation and depression that permeates the hallways.

He’s only got a few months left of the term and then he can go home for the summer.  When he comes back, he’ll get an off-campus apartment with his friend Zayn. He’ll be able to get way from the worst of it. Next year. For now, the park is his haven.

Louis looks around, searching for something to draw, an imprint to leave behind on rough paper in graphite smears.

The park is teeming with life, carefree and vibrant. There are so many things for his eyes to catch on, so many things and people he considers trying to add to his collection of memories. None inspire him though. And Louis _needs_ to be inspired. He hasn’t actually been able to draw anything in weeks.

He tries. He picks subject after subject and starts a drawing only to get frustrated with himself halfway through and flip to a new page. He’s got six sheets of useless paper to throw away at home when he decides to pack it in.

Maybe he’ll have better luck tomorrow.

 

~@~

 

 _Better luck_ doesn’t even begin to cover it when Louis arrives at the park the next day.

There’s a boy sitting on a bench near Louis’ picnic table. He’s beautiful in a way that Louis had never really thought existed. The wind breezes through his curly hair, constantly blowing it in his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he brushes it back absentmindedly and continues reading the book in his hands. His lush, pink lips move occasionally, either to the words he’s reading or mouthing along to the lyrics he’s hearing through his earphones.

Louis doesn’t hesitate when he sees the boy. He pulls out his sketchpad right away and gets to work. If this is the last time that he sees the boy, he wants a reminder that he existed. For one shining moment, he was a part of Louis’ world, and Louis wants the proof.

This is one of the easiest times Louis has had with a drawing, quite possibly _the_ easiest time ever. Sometimes, he and his pencils struggle to get along, the pencils not always doing what Louis intends, Louis occasionally abusing them in his frustration. But today. Today, they work in spectacular harmony. Like Louis’ pencils _get it_ , like they want to help him immortalize this amazing creature before he has the chance to vanish from Louis’ life. Every stroke of the pencil, each streak of lead on the page is _perfect_ and before Louis even realizes, he’s finished. The boy on the bench is reflected on Louis’ paper, lovely and unblemished.

Louis quickly turns the page to start another, but the boy is standing, stuffing his book in his satchel and turning to go. Louis is gripped with indecision.

Let him walk away, or risk an awkward introduction?

In the end, Louis simply doesn’t have the courage to walk up to him. To try and _speak_ to him. He lets the boy go with a heavy heart but consoles himself that he has a permanent reminder that he existed. Actually speaking to him would probably shatter the illusion of perfection anyway.

 

~@~

 

 _Perfection_ keeps showing up at the park.

Louis feels a thrill shoot through his being every time he lays eyes on the boy. He’s got half a sketchpad of him. And the thing is, it’s not just his outward beauty that Louis’ captured. He’s got drawings that depict the boy’s inner beauty as well. Images of him helping up a little girl that had fallen, blowing the seeds from a dandelion after explaining about their wish granting abilities to a little boy, his laughing face as a stranger’s dog attacks him with slobbery kisses.

Louis didn’t even realize when he’d started adding things to his sketches that weren’t actually there. When he started giving the boy wings, or when the park became a more heavenly background.

He’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t have to be drawing the boy anymore for his sketches to turn into something magical. He just needs the boy to be nearby, visible from the corner of his eye, or just close enough that Louis can hear the slow murmur of his voice or his contagious laughter.

He’s Louis’ _muse._ And Louis’ maybe a little bit in love.

 

~@~

 

There’s no rational reason for Louis to be so utterly crushed when his boy isn’t at the park one day.

He doesn’t even pull out his sketchpad because he _knows_ that trying to draw will be a useless endeavor. He does sit at his usual picnic table, wallowing in his self-pity.

It’s ridiculous, Louis knows. He’s just a boy. There’s no possible way that he could be as perfect as Louis has made him out to be in his head. The pedestal Louis’ put him on is so high that the real boy probably couldn’t even _reach_ the top, let alone take a seat on it.

Still, his absence is like a physical ache in Louis’ chest.

Louis is close to admitting that maybe this is a good thing, he’s obviously become far too invested in the actions of this boy he’s never even spoken to, when a soft, deep _“hello”_ sounds over his shoulder.

Louis turns and stills immediately.

Because it’s _him_ , Louis’ muse, standing there looking at Louis shyly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Hi,” Louis answers timidly.

“Can I…?” the boy asks gesturing to the seat next to Louis.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Louis says, scrambling to move his bag out of the way.

Once the boy sits, he turns his head to study Louis again. “I’m Harry.”

Louis glances over at him before turning his gaze back to the table under his hands. “Louis.”

“Louis,” the boy repeats, the name sounding reverent on his tongue, like he’s just solved a great riddle and there’s nothing but satisfaction to be found in what he’s discovered. “I’ve seen you around quite a bit. You’re usually drawing.”

Louis tries to look at Harry for longer than five seconds. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s uninterested in the conversation or anything but the boy is so beautiful that Louis finds he can’t look for long. Not without _wanting_ things that he shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” is all Louis manages before he’s back to mapping out every imperfection on the table in front of him.

Harry seems unwilling to let Louis’ inability to string a sentence together deter him though.

“Why aren’t you today?”

Louis shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but the truth somehow manages to slip out. “I was missing my muse.”

Harry smiles at Louis’ words. “’Was’? Did you find them?”

Louis can feel the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks. He will not tell Harry that he’s Louis’ muse. He won’t freak out this wonderful, bright, lovely boy that’s finally declared him worthy to speak to.

He shrugs.

Harry’s smile falters a bit.

“Would you like me to go?” Harry asks, seeming to have come to the realization that Louis might not want him there, cluttering up his space.

“No!” Louis answers loud and sudden because he doesn’t want Harry to ever feel like he’s not wanted. Louis wants him. He wants to get to know him, and make him laugh, and, maybe, if he’s lucky, one day kiss him. He wants to give Harry every chance to prove that he’s just as amazing as Louis’ imagined him to be, even as he admits to himself that it’s highly unlikely.

Harry bites back a laugh as Louis’ cheeks flush pink with mortification again. “Okay, I won’t go.”

“I’ve seen you around, too,” Louis says, feeling it’s his turn to add something to the conversation. “You’re always doing something different. Talking to everyone.”

Harry’s grin softens as he watches Louis bite nervously at his bottom lip. “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed me. Whenever I see you, you’ve always got your head bent over your paper.”

“I don’t think anyone could not notice you.” The words are out of Louis’ mouth before it even registers that he plans to say anything. They’re quiet, but not quiet enough for Harry to not hear.

“Likewise,” Harry says, eyes twinkling happily when Louis looks up at him.

It’s the start of something beautiful and frightening.

 

~@~

 

Harry waits for Louis at the park nearly every day, now. It’s been four unbelievable months of friendship and Louis has loved every second. They talk and laugh and it’s never as awkward as it was the first time they met. Not even close.

Louis is rapidly learning that he’s sadly lacking in imagination because as incredible as he’d thought his false image of Harry was, the boy in the flesh surpasses every impossible expectation. And if Louis thought he was in love before, he’s utterly fucked now. It scares him a little how deeply he’s fallen so quickly. Not that he plans to do anything to stop it.

“Can you draw them?” Harry asks, pointing to a dog and its owner playing Frisbee.

“Do you not know me at all, Harold?” Louis scoffs. “What should we turn them into?”

It’s a game they have. Louis or Harry will pick a subject and then Louis will turn a mundane image into something only found in the pages of sci-fi or fantasy.

“An alien slug and his android keeper,” Harry suggests with that excited grin that makes Louis’ heart beat a bit louder in his chest.

“Alright,” Louis agrees and sets his pencil to paper.

Sometimes Harry will watch over Louis’ shoulder but sometimes he’ll get up and wander around, interacting with the other people in the park. Louis’ come to learn that Harry’s just in love with life and wants to experience as much of it as possible. He admires that about Harry so much, sometimes wishes he could come out of his shell a bit and be the same.

The next time Louis looks up from his sketch, he finds that Harry has joined the Frisbee game. He chuckles and adds the boy to his picture.

Harry returns to find that Louis has turned him into an alien frog prince, laughing while Harry looks affronted at the chubby cheeks and wide froggy grin that Louis has given him.

“You couldn’t have made me a _handsome_ frog?” Harry jokes, pushing Louis lightly in the shoulder.

“What does a handsome frog look like?” Louis asks, face scrunched as he puzzles over the image.

“Me, apparently. Now fix it.” Harry answers, a teasing pout to his lips.

“Aww. Don’t worry, Harry. You’re the _most_ handsome frog,” Louis placates, the way he knows he’s supposed to, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“You promise?” Harry probes, wide eyes staring at Louis as he fights a grin.

“Promise,” Louis answers.

His sketchpad goes tumbling to the ground when Harry lays an unexpected kiss to his cheek.

“Oops,” Harry says, reaching down for the pad of paper, loose pages spilling out when he picks it up.

Louis notices just in time to panic, jumping down from the table he’d been sitting on top of to try and get ahold of the drawings before Harry notices himself on the pages.

He knows he’s too late when Harry stops to stare at the loose page in his hand. He freezes, afraid of what Harry will think, but then Harry just goes back to picking up Louis’ drawings and Louis feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. He bends to help, not noticing that Harry’s going slower now, taking in what’s on each page and throwing glances at Louis.

“Here,” Harry straightens the unattached pages and puts them carefully back where they were at the bottom of the pad, between the last page and back cover, before handing it over to Louis.

Louis takes it, tentatively, because something feels different now and he’s back to being on edge.

“Harry—“ Louis wants to explain, somehow. To make sure that Harry doesn’t leave, doesn’t walk away. Louis couldn’t take him walking away now.

“You’re really talented, Lou,” Harry says, staring Louis down. “Even more than I’d thought.”

“Thanks,” Louis murmurs, staring right back.

Harry runs a hand nervously through his hair and Louis’ eyes follow the movement, knowing now that he’ll never get the chance to run his own fingers through those curls. He may be on the verge of tears.

Harry licks his lips and sighs. “Do you— Can I show you something?”

Confusion clouds Louis features. He was absolutely certain that the only words to come out of Harry’s mouth would be a gentle letdown, an awkward goodbye.

Louis nods, speechless. He wants to fill the awkward silence as he follows Harry away from the park, but he’s afraid to say something wrong, afraid that any undue noise will knock some sense into Harry and he’ll tell Louis to forget everything.

Louis clutches his sketches to his chest when they reach a set of unmarked doors at a rundown building not far from the park and Harry pulls the keys out of his pocket. He unlocks the doors, reaching in to turn on the lights, before holding the door open for Louis to walk through first.

Louis is nervous as hell as he passes Harry into the building but the nerves melt away when he sees where they are. It’s someone’s art studio, paintings littering the walls and the floor. Canvases with the most beautiful watercolor landscapes, a few portraits here and there in acrylics, and one that Louis thinks looks like oil pastels. There are still life paintings, and Starry Night imitations. Louis can tell from the wide spectrum of talent that they don’t all belong to one person.

“Harry, what is this?” Louis asks, turning to see Harry watching him with fond eyes.

“My sister, Gemma, teaches an art class on the weekends. She lets me use this place when she doesn’t need it,” Harry answers, reaching out and squeezing Louis’ wrist as he walks past to a collection of easels in the corner that are covered by a white sheet.

Harry looks nervous when he turns back to Louis. “These are mine.”

And then Harry pulls the sheet off and Louis is dumbstruck. Because those are _him_. Harry’s paintings, every one of them has Louis in it somewhere. He’s not always the focal point but he’s in _all_ of them.

“Don’t freak out,” Harry begs, pleading with his eyes as well as his lips.

“That’d be a bit hypocritical, wouldn’t it?” Louis replies, but even he can hear how dazed his voice sounds.

He steps closer to really get a good look at each painting. They’re remarkable.

“I was looking for my muse, too,” Harry says from behind Louis.

Louis turns around and finds Harry closer than he’d expected.

“I’m guessing you found them, then. Your muse?” Louis teases with a half-smile, gesturing back at Harry’s painting.

“ _Him_ ,” Harry corrects, resting his hands uncertainly on Louis’ waist. “I found _him_.”

Louis can’t stop the full grin that breaks out on his face as he raises his arms to wrap around Harry’s neck. “Likewise.”

And then Harry’s lips are covering his own and it’s like Louis’ been holding his breath and he can finally breathe again. He holds Harry tighter, relishing the feel of Harry pulling him closer until their bodies are flush against each other.

“Harry,” Louis moans into the other boy’s mouth as he, _finally_ , gets his fingers in those curls.

“Hmm?” Harry hums as his hands trace their way up Louis’ back.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Louis asks between kisses.

“Mmhmm,” Harry answers, not bothering with words when there are kisses to be had.

“Good,” Louis says breathlessly when he pulls away, grinning wickedly at the kiss-dazed boy in his arms. “Because you’re not getting into my pants until you feed me dinner first.”

Harry raises a brow at Louis’ declaration and then grins back before tugging Louis out of the art studio. He owes the boy dinner, after all.

 

~@~

 

They can barely keep their hands off of each other when they manage to make it back to Harry’s flat. Harry has to fumble with his keys while Louis’ hands roam over the front of his trousers, lips trailing kisses down the back of Harry’s neck.

“Unless you want to have sex in the hallway, you might want to give me a second to concentrate, Lewis,” Harry scolds, but it can’t be getting his message across very well when it turns into a moan as Louis bites lightly into his neck where it meets his shoulder.

Without moving from behind Harry, Louis takes the keys from Harry’s hand and swiftly works them into place, twisting and unlocking the door with ease.

Harry rushes to enter the flat, pulling Louis in with him and almost forgetting to pull his keys from the lock. He tosses the keys somewhere in the vicinity of the bowl on the table he keeps next to the door, not caring even a little when he misses the bowl entirely. He and Louis leave their shoes and socks at the door before he pulls Louis wordlessly to his bedroom.

“Are we really doing this?” Louis asks even as he rushes to pull Harry’s shirt off.

“Yes, please,” Harry answers, polite as always, as he returns the favor.

Harry wastes no time losing his trousers and briefs, dropping to his knees before Louis can even get a good look at him. He reaches out and starts unfastening Louis’ jeans, leaning forward to nip and kiss at Louis’ tummy as he works.

Louis gets his hands in Harry’s hair, letting the other boy work at getting him naked as Louis’ cock thickens up at the image of Harry on his knees before him.

He’s barely managed to kick his pants away when Harry’s mouth is on his dick. Louis moans Harry’s name at the feel of Harry’s tongue laving at the head of it before it’s engulfed entirely by the hot, wetness of Harry’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry,” Louis whimpers, tugging at Harry’s hair accidentally.

Harry moans around Louis’ dick when his hair gets pulled so Louis does it again. And Harry takes him in further in retaliation.

“Oh my—“ Louis thinks his knees might give out if Harry keeps this up.

Harry must feel him wavering on his feet because he lets go of Louis’ dick with an obscene sound, and stands, steadying Louis with hands on his hips.

Louis doesn’t give Harry the chance to talk before he’s capturing his lips in a biting kiss.

“You’re evil, you know that?” Louis quips as he pushes Harry back on the bed and crawls on top of him, straddling his hips.

Harry smirks in response. “You didn’t seem to think so when you were drawing me with angel wings.”

“I didn’t know you then,” Louis argues as he reaches for the lube that’s sitting out, clear as day on the nightstand. “I had a false image of you.”

“And what about now?” Harry asks, looking up at Louis in a way that tells Louis he’s serious this time.

“You’re even better than I could have imagined, Harry,” Louis responds honestly, leaning down to wipe away Harry’s answering smile with another kiss. “And also evil.”

Harry laughs into Louis lips before looking questioning at the bottle of lube still in Louis’ hands.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Well, Harold, I thought I might use it to open myself up so that I can ride your cock until you can no longer remember your terrible, terrible ways,” Louis answers, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy resting under him.

“Oh, really?” Harry challenges, before flipping them faster than Louis can react and stealing the lube. “Then you should allow me to do the honor. Before I forget all the wicked ways I’ve learned to use my hands.”

Louis watches with rapt attention as Harry slicks up his fingers. How has he never noticed how pornographic Harry’s hands are?

Louis watches until Harry’s hand disappears between his legs. Legs that he hadn’t realized he’d automatically spread so that Harry could settle between them. And then he can _feel_ Harry’s finger pressing against him, rubbing the lube into his skin but refraining from pressing inside where Louis desperately needs him.

His eyes close as he breathes deep, trying to get a handle on himself even as he pushes back against Harry’s finger.

When his eyes open, it’s to find Harry’s insufferable smirk aimed at him as Harry continues to toy with him.

He’s about to lodge a complaint. Really, he is. But then Harry’s other hand moves up to circle his cock and suddenly he can’t be bothered with things as trivial as _words_.

Harry strokes him slowly as he finally, _finally_ presses his finger inside.

Louis whimpers. He needs to get his hands on something. Or his lips. Maybe his tongue. His body makes the decision completely independent of his mind as he reaches out and wraps a hand around Harry’s neck, pulling him in for a filthy, desperate kiss. He fucks his tongue into Harry’s mouth and enjoys the deep groan of his name that Harry releases into the kiss.

Harry lets go of his dick to capture the back of Louis’ neck, mirroring the way that Louis is holding him close, like he can’t believe he gets this and he’s not intending to let go.

Louis misses the hand on his dick but then, Harry’s pressing another finger in and _twisting_ , angling his fingers like he knows exactly what Louis needs. And he’s absolutely fucking right.

It occurs suddenly to Louis that Harry has done all the work thus far and the erection pressing into Louis’ thigh must be feeling pretty neglected right now. So, he wraps a hand around Harry’s dick. It’s the least he can do, really. He uses slow strokes just like Harry had done to him but if Harry’s moans are anything to go by, he’s happy just to have Louis’ hand on him.

“Lou,” Harry breathes into Louis’ lips as he adds a third finger. “Want you so much.”

“Me, too, Harry,” Louis agrees as he pushes back against Harry’s fingers. “Wanted you forever.”

Harry seems to like Louis’ confession as his eyes hungrily trace Louis’ features before he ducks in for another soul-searing kiss.

It’s not even another thirty seconds before Louis is breaking the kiss with a murmur of, “m’ready”.

Harry carefully removes his fingers and crawls over to the nightstand to dig inside for a condom. Sitting back against the headboard of the bed, pillow tucked behind his back for comfort, he holds the condom up triumphantly but before he can get it on, Louis is there, ripping it from his hand and tearing it open with his teeth. He puts it on Harry and then lubes up Harry’s cock before situating himself in Harry’s lap.

“Hey,” Harry says, hands grabbing Louis’ elbows before he can do anything else.

Louis freezes, half-afraid that he’s done something wrong. “What?”

“I really like you,” Harry tells him with mischievous grin.

Louis breathes a sigh of relief even as he fights the urge to slap Harry upside the head.

“Evil,” Louis mutters as he shakes his head at Harry’s antics, only causing the other boy’s grin to grow.

“Well, you haven’t ridden it out of me, yet,” Harry reasons with a shrug.

“Maybe if you’d stop interrupting me,” Louis argues as he grabs Harry’s cock and sinks down onto it.

Harry is really fucking big, so it takes him a bit longer than either of them would’ve liked to push all the way down, but he gets there eventually, and it’s definitely worth the wait.

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head and his mouth falls open at the feel of Louis, tight and warm, around him.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as Louis gives himself a moment to adjust.

“We’re about to,” Louis jokes vengefully, leaning in to nip at Harry’s bottom lip.

Harry apparently takes that as an invitation and snogs the hell out of Louis. Which, should really be working the other way around. Louis isn’t the evil one.

Louis doesn’t even remember when he started moving on Harry’s cock, rising up and sliding back down on it. It seems to come so naturally to him, like this is what he was born to do, his hips moving on their own accord, grinding on Harry’s cock and driving the boy absolutely _wild_. It’s not enough for Louis, and he starts moving faster, riding Harry for all he’s worth.

Harry whines when it means they can’t keep kissing the way they were, but seconds later he’s moaning out his pleasure into Louis’ neck before latching on and sucking a bruise into his skin.

It gets a little difficult to keep riding Harry when his arms circle around Louis’ back and hold tight.

“Harry, I can’t—“

But then, Harry’s planting his feet and fucking up into Louis hard and fast, hitting his prostate with each upward thrust. Louis practically screams, pleasure thrumming through his entire body, and collapses forward onto Harry’s chest, letting the boy support his body weight.

“Harry, _Harry_ , Harry.” By now it’s just a random chant of Harry’s name spoken into his flesh as Louis presses back against Harry’s every move.

“Come for me, Lou,” Harry orders as he wraps a hand around Louis’ dick.

Just the touch is enough to send Louis careening over the edge and he leans in to lazily suck a mark into Harry’s shoulder as he chases his own orgasm.

Another few thrusts and he’s coming, saying Louis’ name like a _prayer_ as he does.

After a lazy clean-up, they lay breathless in Harry’s bed.

“Harry?” Louis asks, without looking at the boy.

“Yeah, Lou?” Harry enquires, taking Louis’ hand in his.

“Be my boyfriend?”

Harry turns his head to look at Louis and chuckles. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Louis finally looks back at the boy holding his hand.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees again, turning his body so that he’s on his side and maneuvering Louis so that they are spooning. Harry’s the little spoon. “I was planning on keeping you anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Louis runs one hand over the flesh of Harry’s stomach, outlining invisible patterns. “Because I’m your muse?”

“Because you’re everything,” Harry answers. And Louis’ on the verge of thinking that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him. Until Harry starts rattling off a list. “You’re stimulating, motivating, encouraging, arousing.”

It takes Louis a second to get it but he comes to the conclusion pretty quickly that Harry thinks he’s pretty funny rattling off a list of words that are synonyms for the job that muses fill: inspiring.

“That does it, you’re terrible. I’m breaking up with you,” Louis groans at the terrible joke and tries to pull his arm away but Harry grabs it and holds on as he laughs at Louis’ reaction.

“What? Do I not a _muse_ you?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with delight.

Louis groans again.

“Grab another condom,” Louis tells him. “I didn’t get all the evil out.”

So, maybe they’ll be spending a lot of time in bed together. And maybe they’ll spend a lot of time _inspiring_ each other, both in and out of the bedroom.

But even if they only exist to be each other’s muses, neither of them is going to mind playing the part.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading you lovely people!


End file.
